


Hurt Me

by 54321boom



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Alternative Universe- high school, Angst, Dehydration, Drugs, Eating Disorder, Emo!Dean, F/F, F/M, Feels, High School, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective!Cas, Sex, Sneaking Out, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence, attempted suicide, lots of "sex", lots of feels, seriously this kinda hurts to write
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-08 23:06:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1959561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/54321boom/pseuds/54321boom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I don't want to sleep. I can't. If I sleep, I know I'll dream, and if I dream it'll just make everything worse. But I don't want to be here."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hurt Me

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings for this fic (read the tags)
> 
> Excuse any mistakes plz, I did this on my phone!
> 
> Hope you enjoy:)

I don't want to sleep. I can't. If I sleep, I know I'll dream, and if I dream it'll just make everything worse. But I don't want to be here. I want to grab my bag and run as far away as I can, but I have nowhere to go and I know I'd never make it on my own. So I settle for the next best thing; I look out the window towards the moon and count to ten. 

My eyes focus in on it and I don't move for a second, just stare, hoping. I can feel the tears burning in the back of my eyes but there isn't enough water in my system for them to fall. I'd like to blame the hurt; the abuse, but I know it's not the truth. I know that this kind of pain I cause myself. And god does it hurt. 

I feel the pulse of my blood reaching an uncontrollable speed again. This isn't the first time I've felt this tonight, and it won't be the last. It's never the last. There are too many bruises, too many scars, or triggers for it to ever be the last. I feel my fingers unconsciously grip the sheets below me, my body deciding to sit up from its comfy position to ease my need for air. Huffs of air are now starting to pour out of my throat in quick bursts and it makes my body freeze as much as it can, the slight tremble still present. 

My eyes tear away from their haze over to the still body wrapped in the sheets next to me. I don't want him to wake up; it'll just make it all so much worse. The tension now ringing through my body begins to ease as I watch his steady breathing and gentle features. He looks so calm, so content in the moonlight. I'm enticed to reach my hand out and move the strand of hair covering his eyes, but stop midway through. 

The pale white of the light reveals a dark purple handprint around my wrist. My mind finally registers what the foreign color is and it begins to throb; a dull ache running through my forearm. I place my arm back to its original position next to my torso and close my eyes. 'No. Don't think. Don't think about it. Don't hurt. Don't feel.' A swollen feeling in my throat makes my eyes squeeze tighter and my hands unconsciously grip the sheets once more.

It's painful. It's all too painful. I put myself through this, through \him\ too often. He's my downfall, my ever flowing drug so I don't have to think, so I don't have to breathe, because around him he makes sure I can't. He feels like electricity, like hell fire, and as much as I wish I could get free of his shackles I always run back. It doesn't matter how far or how long I'm away from him, my feet always bring me back to him. It almost makes me want to be able to cry, but doing that wouldn't do me any good. It'd just wake him up. 

It's well past midnight on a Thursday, but I can't bring myself to move my legs so I can leave. I'm not even sure I can after......earlier events. I only came over to see him, to score myself some of the euphoria in a pill he always has, but he wanted more. He always wants more. I want to blame him for the scars on my body, but can I if I'm the one who came to him in the first place? Do I even deserve the luxury of blaming someone else? Or do I deserve the red and black marks I let him cover my body with? I raise my left forearm into the moonlight and trace the long, light pink line running from my thumb to the inside of my elbow.

I remember being taken to the hospital and given a blood transfusion. I remember telling a nurse I got lonely when she asked what happened as they wheeled me into the emergency room. I remember my family's worried eyes, Sam's worried eyes, as he stared at me while the doctors told my parents I'd tried to kill myself. And I remember the nightmares of Crowley holding me down and slowly dragging a knife across my arm, not caring as I screamed and begged him to stop. I didn't see him for a month after that. I wanted to tell myself that I would never forgive him for it, for hurting me so badly, but I found myself walking to his place after my first day back at school. He apologized the moment he saw me, hugged me even, but he always does that. It's always the same vicious cycle and I never try to stop it.

I bite my lip, the memories becoming a little too painful again and decide to move. I have to move. I have to leave, have to get back home before they notice I'm gone again. They know I do it, know that I sneak out when they're all asleep. They never know where I go, though, just that I come back hurt and usually high. They tried grounding me once; taking away my cell phone and laptop, but I left anyways. When I came back I found Sam with those worried eyes staring at me again. It only made me want to leave again. 

They could punish me more, threaten me more, but I think that they're worried I'll try to kill myself again if they push too hard. It makes me almost want to tell them the truth, it annoys me so much.

The memories start to suffocate my brain with numbing pain, now, and I have to move, the need just too much. I scoot myself to the end of the bed, not caring if I wake Crowley up and muster up the strength I have to stand up. Once my feet are firmly planted on the ground I go for my clothes, haphazardly yanking them onto my body. I pace towards the door, my steps too quick as to keep up momentum, but a voice stops me in my tracks. "See you tomorrow, love," a hoarse, accented voice speaks in my direction. A slight shaking of my hands starts and I tilt my head down in shame. He's right. I always come back. I can picture his mouth curling into a smile behind me and I close the door as I make my way down the hall from his apartment. My pace quickens to a slight jog and I go down the stairs of the complex, adrenaline making the feat much easier. I ignore the various glances from lingering scum, putting my hands in my pockets as I make my way outside, now only walking, down the road towards my house. He lives ten blocks from my house, but the road to hell is long. I put my hands in my pockets, watching through my peripheral as the houses begin to get more luxurious as I get closer to mine. The lights of passing cars distract me and the journey becomes second nature, my feet moving on their own, until a solid thump rams into my chest and knocks me to the ground. I recognize the feeling of a person and scramble to get up. "Hey watch it, bud!" I glare at the person whose form just bumped into me and am met with startled, brilliant blue eyes. "I'm so sorry! I didn't watch where I was going a-and-"

"Do I know you?"

He raises an eyebrow at me, his mouth still slightly moving in surprise. 

"H-huh?" 

His dark brown hair and pale features stand out in my mind, but I can't quite place him. By the looks of his rather expensive, almost pristine, looking clothes he's definitely from the area. He looks about my age, maybe younger, and suddenly all the pieces fall into place. "You're Castiel, right?"

He's still wearing that surprised look,"Yeah, how'd you know?" I smirk at him; he looks so innocent and clean, it makes all other thoughts but wanting to mess with him veer from my mind. I move closer to him, almost too close. And in a low, sultry voice reply, "Those beautiful blues of yours. Unmistakable." He looks a little confused, his brows still furrowed, but doesn't move. It annoys me some. Suddenly I remember what I'm supposed to be doing and step back a bit, "Well, nice bumpin' into you, Cas." My lips form into my best smile before I move around him, putting my hands back in my pockets, the dull ache in my body coming back as I continue my walk. I pick up my pace a little more when I hear him yell, "Wait!" I stop again and turn my head towards him, seeing his form now facing me. "You're Dean Winchester, right?" I wink at him and turn back around, continuing on. I pull my right hand out my pocket, not turning back as I give him a slight wave and yell back, "Night, Cas!" 

As my route takes me around the corner I can't get bright blue eyes out of my head. They exude life and skies and sunsets, a complete contrast to Crowley's cold and possessive ambers. For a moment it makes me want to go back and look at them one more time, chase the bit of joy they made me feel, but I bring myself back to reality. In my reality they don't exist; they aren't apart of my world. 'They never could be'. My feet drag slightly, reminding me of the way things are. Of the way they always will be.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and likes are MUCH appreciated and motivate me to continue:D 
> 
> *All constructive criticism is welcomed and encouraged


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